To Kill a Scott
by AvalineBrisbois
Summary: "When I look at the world around me, all I see is grey. It's dull without him. I can barely feel anything anymore. Just... Numb." After the loss of her second child, Peyton struggles with depression. Her husband and friends have begun to worry about her, even Sawyer knows something's up, but Peyton's too deep down in the gloom to notice them noticing. Full summary inside. LEYTON.
1. Chapter 1

_**Full summary - "When I look at the world around me, all I see is grey. It's dull without him. I can barely feel anything anymore. No happiness, no inspiration, no hope. Just... Numb." After the loss of her second child, Peyton struggles with depression. Her husband and friends have begun to worry about her, even Sawyer knows something's up. But Peyton's too far down in the gloom to notice them noticing. The sadness builds to a dangerous point, until Peyton finds something that could either change everything, or make it that much worse.**_

 **Chapter One**

 **Peyton's Pov**

Peyton's hair blew back and forth in the soft wind. Her arms were wound tightly around herself, hugging her torso feverishly. She stared at the headstone with disconnected sadness. She sniffled. the very sight of his headstone sent chills up and down her spine. Not just that. But the horrifying familiarity of that terrible place.

She read the engraved text again, as if to convince herself it wasn't a nightmare.

 _In Loving Memory, Fletcher Nathan Scott_

 _Beloved son and brother_

 _Born September 3rd, 2012 - died September 20th, 2015_

 _Aged three years_

 _Forever remembered, Forever cherished_

He died literally seventeen days after his 3rd birthday. She let herself fall to her knees as she reached out, her fingers brushing gently over his name. She could hear his laugh. It was just a ghost of a whisper in the wind, but she swore it was him.

"Fletcher?" She stood. "Fletch? Baby?" She knew she was beginning to lose it. She shook her head, running her hands through her thick curls.

A ringing broke through the silence of the graveyard so suddenly, Peyton jumped in surprise. She reached into her pocket. Looking at the screen, she sighed and clicked decline call. Luke had been repeatedly calling her for the past five minutes. She knew if she didn't go soon, he'd find her there, calling out her dead son's name like a lunatic.

So she shoved her phone into her back pocket and took off in the direction of her car.

Her knuckles had barely connected with the door when it opened. "Hey." Lucas said.

"Hey." Peyton said back.

"You okay?" He asked, leaning against the door. "You've been avoiding my calls all day."

"No I haven't." She protested.

He gave her the look. The one he'd been giving her too much lately. The one that said I know you know I know that you're lying.

"Yes I have." She allowed. "I'm just so tired Lucas. I feel like a teenaged girl again, there's so much pain. Except that now, everything I went through in high school seems like a walk in the park."

Lucas studied her for a second, his blue eyes narrowed with worry and sadness. "Come here."

Peyton stepped into their house silently, noticing the empty quiet. "Where's Sawyer?" She asked, trying not to sound too panicked.

"Don't worry, she's with Brook."

Peyton nodded.

Lucas made his way onto the couch and patted his leg. "Come sit, darlin'."

Peyton was hesitant, but she sat on his lap. His arms went around her, and she was enveloped in that familiar smell that used to be so comforting. Now it just reminded her of what they'd lost. She rested her head against Lucas' chest and let him hold her there for a while.

"You can cry, you know." He said. "You don't have to be strong for me."

She nodded against his shoulder, her chin made his shirt wrinkle up. "I know." She said. She still couldn't cry.

Crying always made her feel better. It helped her release all the bottled up emotions. But the problem was she couldn't cry. She'd balled her eyes out the night of the accident, and the day after when the doctors told her they'd done everything they could, but it wasn't enough. But as soon as she'd stopped, she couldn't start up again. At the funeral she'd been like a statue. Hard and cold. She even tried to cry once, a few days after Fletcher's death. It didn't matter, it was impossible.

Lucas' breath was warm against her face, stirring her hair. "You shouldn't have to feel this way. You deal with so much and you act like you can handle it-"

"I _can_ handle it."

" _No, you can't_. I know you can't, and I don't know why you insist that you can." He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "It's only been a month. You won't be able to cope forever."

"Maybe not." Peyton stared at the ground. "But until then, just leave me be."

"Peyton…" She couldn't see his face, but his voice was sad, pleading. "Nobody's gonna judge you for being human, for having feelings."

She stayed silent, but her hands clenched into fists against her jeans.

"I just want you to know, when you can't cope anymore, I'll be here. I want to help you."

"What if I can't be helped?"

"Well I have to try."

Peyton said nothing after that. She just sat there, and let him hold her until Brook came by to drop off Sawyer.

She sat against the porch, repeatedly running her hands through her hair. She'd had a fight with Lucas again. They didn't even fight about valid things anymore. They fought about stupid, silly things, like who was going to do the laundry, or whether or not they were going to attend Haley's Thanksgiving party. Peyton didn't even know why they fought. She was just so angry. Besides, what was the point of giving thanks when she had nothing to be thankful for. She licked her dry lips as her phone buzzed with another text from Lucas. He had no idea she was just right outside, hiding behind the porch. She glanced down at the text. Come home. Please. I need you. Sawyer needs you.

Peyton put her head in her hands. Now he was playing the guilt card. He knew how bad she felt about Fletcher's death. She'd been the one driving the car, she was responsible. she couldn't stand the thought of staying away when her child wanted or needed her. She stood slowly, shoving her phone into the pocket of her old leather jacket.

She entered the house quietly, making sure the door didn't slam behind her. Lucas was sitting at the table staring at his phone, as if willing Peyton to send him a text. He only noticed her when she walked past him, down the hallway into the kitchen.

He got up. "Peyt? Talk to me. Please."

She took off her jacket. "I've got nothing to say to you."

"Are you mad? You're mad aren't you?"

She turned. "I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I was only angry. We don't have to go to Haley and Nathan's Thanksgiving party."

"No, it's okay."

He looked at her, worried. "Are you sure? I feel bad about fighting. I'm really sorry."

"Okay."

"You're not mad?"

She shook her head.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." She said flatly.

"You sure?"

"Lucas, I'm okay." But she wasn't. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to scream at the sky that it wasn't fair, that if there was some other-worldly force, it had ruined her life. But she didn't do any of that. She just walked out of the kitchen, towards her and Lucas' room.

 **Lucas' Pov**

Lucas hated when he and Peyton fought. He hated when she screamed, and threw fits, and swore at him. That version of Peyton scared him. The fire, and anger. But after every fight she had to cool down, she had to run off by herself and deal with it. And what came after the cool down scared him worse than any amount of anger. The ice, the cold, the sharp words, and closed off expressions. The way she woke up every day earlier than Lucas to get to work, and came home by the time he was in bed. And they'd spend days like that, in the same terrible cycle, until one of them got confronted the other, or broke down and cried. It was the same every time. He hated it, Because he knew what came now, it was the days, possibly weeks without the spit-fiery Peyton. Now he had to wait and watch as she dodged his calls, regarded him with bland tones, and icy expressions.

 **This is my second fanfiction... Okay that's a lie, it's my third, but my second one didn't come out as I'd hoped so I deleted it. I hope this one proves to be better. And I hope you, the people of liked the first chapter of my second fanfiction. It's slightly dark, and some chapters with with extremely dark. Like next level dark, and don't worry I'll try to remember to give you a warning at the beginning of the really dark chapters. Also, I put some Leyton in there. I love when Lucas calls Peyton darlin'! Oh, the feels. So much fangirling going on over here. Anyway, review, follow, favorite, and whatever else. I hope you guys are looking forward to the next chapter!**

 **-Ava**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Peyton treaded carefully on the way into Brook's house. She went in through the back door, because she'd spotted Lucas through the front window. She didn't want to spy, but she heard yelling as she tiptoed along the hallway, and froze when she saw Lucas and Brook in the kitchen. Brook was at the counter, on the same side as the fridge, she clutched a cup of coffee tightly in her hand, and Lucas on the other side, pacing back and forth quickly.

"Lucas, you need to calm down." Brook said, cupping her hands around her coffee mug.

"No! I can't calm down. I love her. How am I supposed to help her if she won't talk to me?" He stopped, just for a second to turn and look at Brook, his right hand held out, gesturing. "Do you know some days she won't even look at me anymore?" He let out a frustrated grunt and resumed his pacing.

"Lucas." Brook sighed. "I know this sucks, but she needs space. And you need to give it to her."

"I've been giving her space!" He practically yelled. Peyton flinched, taking a small step backwards.

"Luke." Brook said warningly. "Do you know how long it takes me to get Jude and Davis asleep? I swear to every circle of hell that if you wake them, I will gut you, and it will be painful."

Lucas sighed, and sat at the counter across from her. "Peyton's not getting better, and I'm becoming more and more stressed. Brook, I think we need to amp it up."

Brook glanced at him cautiously. "Amp it up how?" She asked slowly.

"Brook, I think she needs therapy. And… maybe even antidepressant pills."

Antidepressants? Peyton might be sad, she might miss Fletcher but she wasn't sick. She had to cover her mouth with her hand in order to stop herself from screaming. She felt a burning in her eyes. Her husband thought she was a freak, and her best friend agreed.

Brook sighed and set her coffee down. "I hate to agree with you on this, but I do. You're right, she's been really bad lately. I think we should start with therapy, and if the therapist recommends antidepressants, than we can do that, but let's not go there right now."

Lucas leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. "I just miss her so much. She used to be so alive, so happy and joyful. Now… She seems broken."

Brook patted his shoulder. "I know, Broody. I miss her too."

Tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks by now. She was beginning to wish she hadn't even had Fletcher at all. She just wanted to run. No matter what, she couldn't listen to the rest of the conversation. She turned, trying her best to be quiet as she snuck back down the hallway. But when she broke into a run towards the back door, she couldn't find it in herself to care. Not when she scraped her arm on the railing of the unsanded wooden porch, not when one of her shoes came off, not even when she heard Lucas and Brook's voices screaming her name behind her.

Peyton ended up at Tric. She wasn't sure how she'd managed to get there without a vehicle in such short time, or why her brain subconsciously decided to go there, but that's where she ended up.

Tric, as expected was locked up, but Peyton had a key. She scrambled with it, sliding it into the lock, before pushing the door open. Peyton trudged up the stairs. She was tired, and sad. All she wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers. But she was at Tric. And even though she had no idea why she was at Tric, she was at Tric. And she didn't have any ways to get home.

When she walked into the club, it was bright, much to her surprise. The lights were on, but the bar looked empty. She walked to it, and sat on one of the stools, unzipping her sweatshirt. She wasn't positive Lucas and Brook wouldn't find her here, but it wasn't the first place they would look. Peyton knew that for sure. So she figured, why not get comfortable.

Lucas had so much trouble understanding Peyton, it was frustrating. They didn't think the same way. He was too nice about everything, always considering everyone else's well being above his own. Always doing the right thing, the right way. But Peyton couldn't help thinking about herself. Not exactly feeling bad for herself, or putting herself above others. More like she compared herself and her life to the lives of everyone else. She couldn't help thinking what if. What if she'd left the house five minutes earlier? What if Lucas had gone instead of her? What if Fletcher had been on the other side of town?

Peyton shook her head and turned towards the bar. Drinking her sorrows away wasn't really her style, or her way of doing things, but hey, there was a bar full of alcohol in front of her, and she felt like punching somebody, so why not right?

A noise behind the bar made her jump in surprise, and Chase popped up, with a wooden crate in his arms. "God, Chase!" Peyton put a hand over her heart. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

He smiled sheepishly, and hauled the crate up onto the counter. "Sorry." He said. "What's up, Peyton? What are you doing here?"

Peyton shrugged, her fingers toying with a loose thread on her hoodie. "Just needed to get away from everyone, you know?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You wouldn't know it, but being bar manager gives you a lot of time to think."

Peyton made a sad attempt at a joke. "Yes, because the best time to think is 2am with music pounding loud enough to shake your teeth out of your head, and mobs of people in line for drinks." But it sounded hollow. She didn't sound like Peyton Sawyer, she sounded broken. And she so badly wanted to be just Peyton Sawyer again.

Chase smiled sadly at her comment, clearly he'd heard the emptiness in the joke as well. "No," he said "I meant that the bar manager is in charge of getting the bar ready before the club opens. There's usually no one here during this time, so it's always pretty quiet, unless Chuck comes by to visit me."

Peyton nodded, giving him a knowing smile. "We all know chuck can make any place loud."

Chase nodded, the corners of his lips curling upward. Peyton rested her arms on the bar, and leaned forward, deciding it was time for a change of topic. "So whatcha got in the crate?"

He reached into the topless wooden crate and pulled out a flask that was a depressingly ugly shade of green. "We're apparently selling flasks now."

"Oh. Well I would say good for you, but that shade of green isn't good for anyone."

He laughed. "Yeah, I swear it looked different in the pictures."

Peyton chuckled, but even she could still hear the note of sadness in her voice. "I'm sure it did." She joked half heartedly. "Thanks Chase."

"For what?"

Peyton shrugged. "For distracting me. I really needed that today."

"Anytime."

Peyton slipped off the stool gently, and took her bag, walking lightly to the stairs. "Chase. Don't tell anyone I was here. I'm trying to avoid people right now."

Chase sighed. "I don't like lying. But… Fine. As long as you come talk with me when you're feeling down."

I nodded absentmindedly, and left, taking the steps two at a time. It was silly, but I couldn't stay there any longer. I couldn't be around anyone when they said things like that. Not just specifically Chase, everyone. Because I couldn't keep promises. I'd learned a long time ago not to make promises to anybody. Promises are just words waiting to blossom into lies.


End file.
